Sunday, April 25, 2010

26.30 out the window

I am distracted by the cloud driftpuffyI am inadequate by the measure of treestheir new spring green leavesI am the way rain grays white, ominousaquamarine is the skyI am the way the moon appears during the daysolid bulb, rock in the cumulous fluff.I am the sewing needle of the silver planedarting through and across.

what kind of tree? oak, mimosa, dogwooodwhat kind of cloud other than cumulous? stratus, nimbus, thunderheadcorrections, why the ominous, the grey?the restlessnessthe noise in my headrockbands of pound, unfinished, not rehearsingJung would probably saydeaththe way dreams are always about sex, loss of controlanxietynever aboutplot, narrative, nothing is as it seems

like this jewel of skythe height of treesthe clutter moving in and outstunning beauty of it inviting gazeinstead of concentrating on rocks in a tumblerwanting to be more than justideas.